By Blood & Time
by not envy
Summary: When four people turn to the past to change their present they don't expect time to be as fragile as it is – or for it to try to change them instead. AU.
1. Hell Calls To Hell

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Surprise. I'm also not making money off any of this. Stunning, I know.

**Before We Begin:** This story is AU. I spent a lot of time thinking of the consequences involved with the characters and how things would change. That doesn't make me _right_– I'm open to your opinions.

Please keep in mind characterizations will be a little different due to behind the scenes events and, in later chapters, on stage events.

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><p>But little Mouse, you are not alone,<br>In proving foresight may be vain:  
>The best laid schemes of mice and men<br>Go often askew,  
>And leave us nothing but grief and pain,<br>For promised joy!  
>- From <em>To a Mouse<em> by Robert Burns

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><p>Dirty, trembling fingers slid into the inner pocket of Ginny's school robes, fumbling the potion vial against her ribs as blood slicked the glass. Tiny silhouettes cast from the large window around the corner reflected sharply on the places not obscured by smears, wands flashing. Green spell light glinted off the container and lent the murky red liquid inside a brown hue.<p>

Strings cut, one of the shadows fell. Ginny squinted her eyes and looked down the dim hallway on her right to avoid seeing the body hit the floor. She didn't dare close her eyes. It was impossible to hear the flesh hit the stone floor over the chaos of battle, but Ginny thought she heard a thud anyway. Her fingernails scrabbled harder against the cork, little pieces flaking away from the mouth of the vial.

After a few more precious seconds she pointed her wand at it. If all the curses sailing past Ginny hadn't hurt it before now popping the cork out wouldn't either, no matter how delicate Hermione said this sort of potion was. What was the worst that could happen? She went back in time a century instead of a quarter of one? It didn't matter anymore.

Ginny didn't even know who was dead now and who wasn't. Harry... was. She'd never be able to think about him again without seeing his pale, broken corpse being hefted up above the Death Eaters to dance like a marionette. Their laughing jeers echoed in her memory.

With a sharp inhale she tossed the cork aside and watched it bounce off Malfoy's stunned body crumpled at her feet. Ginny swayed back against the wall. She was more numb than in actual pain, wounds and all. She wasn't sure if that was bad or good.

Didn't matter. They were going to fix everything, and everything would be okay. Everything would be fine. Harry, Fred and George, Bill, her father, and everyone else would be alive and well. If she repeated it enough times she could convince herself.

Ginny eyed the sluggish liquid in the blood smeared vial critically. She should probably be a little more concerned about the blood all over it. There wasn't any way to be sure it didn't mix with the potion. It'd just turn it into a poison. No big deal. Better than here.

This time Ginny closed her eyes, and gripped the vial tighter in her grimy fingers as she sloshed the potion into her mouth and swallowed. She was almost fast enough not to taste copper and burnt mud. It had blood in it to begin with. It didn't have to be the blood on her hands.

The aftertaste was more like burnt hair and soap. There was something earthy about it, though. Not quite soil. More like rotting leaves. Yellow, orange, and red.

_Colors don't have tastes._The thought lingered as a chill spread through her chest, tingled against her fingertips and toes. Someone dashed down the hall past her, too fast for her to react. Boots slamming on stone under the shouts and screams, the shattering of rock and marble around them. Everything felt quiet. Calm.

Feeling came rushing back as the castle shook, and her gasp of breath cut off her scream. No, she was definitely not fine. It was like her entire body had fallen asleep instead of just a foot and everything was on fire. Her back leaning against the wall was a personal hell, and the vibrations through the stone only made it worse.

She pushed off reflexively and toppled over Malfoy and onto the floor, screaming into the chaos around her. Before she lost consciousness the one clear thought she had at the back of her mind was that someone must have found her. She hadn't been paying attention. Someone must have found her and used the Cruciatus Curse.

Then everything was black, and nothing, and fine.

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><p>When Ginny woke up she wasn't sure if she was still alive. She was lightheaded enough to feel like her body was floating between the bed she laid in and the lacy canopy above, held down by the heavy velvet and silk blankets covering her. A dry swallow rasped her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and Ginny closed her eyes against the dull light in the room. At least the needle sharp pain jabbing into every millimeter of her skin was gone.<p>

Where was she? The comforter she was clenching in her fists felt soft as down. Everything was disturbingly quiet. No battle. Not captured, not dead...

Ginny snapped upright and staggered back down into the entourage of frilly pillows, sweat cooling on her open palms as she groped around for her wand. A teddy bear gussied up in lace and ribbons flew off the edge of the bed, rippling the curtains draped from the canopy. A soft thump came up from the floor below a half second later.

Ginny propped herself up on shaking arms, facing the mattress. Strands of long, dark red hair had escaped her french plait to obscure her vision. Her hands looked pale and tiny in the predawn light. They seemed fitting to her somehow, almost comforting.

She couldn't grasp why.

Drawing a deep breath she turned slowly and propped her back against the pillows. The room around her was lit in shades of gray and lavender from the three windows. Plush toys were neatly stacked in rows on decorative wooden shelves and atop the large dresser against the left wall.

Next to the bed on the left was a round cherry nightstand with a flower pattern cut out of its surface. Ginny could see light reflected in the glass petals from the window above it. Past the nightstand sat a narrow bookcase filled with thin children's books and a few thicker ones, small toys filling in for book ends. At the bottom where the stuffed bear lay staring up with blank black eyes Ginny could just make out one of the titles as _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade I_.

Looking to the foot of the bed revealed an open closet door with shelves of stacked clothes. A closed door was recessed into the same wall on the left, and to the right was an open archway with a marbled white sink behind it.

The last two windows lit the room from the wall on her right along with a tapestry containing a snoring unicorn, and between the last window and the identical nightstand on the right side of her bed lay a vanity in the corner of the room. A small girl with mussy red hair and brilliant green eyes looked back out at her from the mirror, face drawn and bloodless.

Those were Harry's eyes... on Lily? No, reflected in the mirror from _her_. Evans. The potion. A jolt froze her stomach and she clutched the sheets beneath her. They were a Muggle family. Her eyes flicked back to the unicorn, its sides heaving with each great snore. Maybe they'd picked it up in Diagon Alley while they were getting spell books.

If they'd already gotten spell books, where was her wand? Maybe they'd kept it up somewhere out of reach? Ginny swallowed bile rising up as she carefully slid toward the edge of the bed, closing her eyes tight against the sudden wave of dizziness. She paused there, hand gripping the nightstand with white knuckles before looking back up into the mirror.

"Hmmm," it drawled in a pompously high soprano. "Perhaps you should just stay in bed today, dear. No one would want to be caught in public looking like that."

The Evans wouldn't have replaced their furniture in Diagon Alley. Maybe it was just a mirror that struck their fancy. Maybe they were trying to get their daughter – daughters – used to the magical world? Yes. An insulting mirror for a little girl. That made plenty of sense.

Ginny swallowed and closed her eyes again. If she opened her mouth to tell it off she might sick up. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to be with the Evans, she was supposed to be with-

The bedroom door flung open causing Ginny to nearly jump out of her skin as she spun toward it and landed in a heap on the floor as her knees buckled.

An ashen blonde haired girl looked down at her from near the closet, dark eyes wide. Ginny regarded her blankly. She was a haughty sort of pretty with defined cheekbones, a pale blue nightgown draped around her thin frame. Her neck was a bit long, and that along with what little she'd been told of Harry's family led her to guess.

"Petunia?" Ginny asked, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth and hating the uncertainty that had seeped into her voice. The blonde turned and darted back down the hall out of sight. Ginny could hear the thumping footfalls retreating.

"Violet?"

Ginny turned toward the quiet voice and found a girl identical to her leaning out of the archway that she'd seen the sink behind earlier. From her new vantage point on the floor clutching the edge of the bed she could see an open door behind it that led into a bathroom. Another open door beyond that looked into a similar bedroom judging by the frilly canopy she could see beyond. It was light pink instead of pastel green. "What's wrong?"

Ginny's eyes flicked back to the girl, and watched Lily's red eyebrows crease in concern. There was no mistaking Lily. "What's wrong?" Lily asked again, her voice taking on a quicker edge. Fear. Before Ginny could shake her head and try to calm her Lily called, "Kippit!"

A green bat-eared house-elf popped into the room, wide pale eyes seeming to glow in the dim light, and Ginny promptly threw up. Past the sounds of her gagging she heard footsteps running up the hall. "Little Mistress?"

The sick up vanished, and a silky dark emerald slip pooled around Ginny as a woman crouched down over her. "Merlin," the woman breathed, "I told him the Anti-Apparation Wards were a bad idea."

Ginny looked up into the face of what was unmistakably a Malfoy, the cold grey eyes wearing a soft concern Ginny never would have attributed to them. The woman looked down at her with a soft smile, rubbing Ginny's back. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Ginny lied, and the woman's lips thinned in a way that reminded Ginny painfully of her mother.

"Petunia?" The Malfoy woman asked, glancing to the girl who looked the most like her, "Would you fetch one of my velvet robes? I need Kippit to go find your father," she added with a nod to the house-elf who disappeared with a pop instantly. Petunia paused in wringing her hands before hurrying from the room. The woman watched where she had been for a couple of minutes, then turned to Lily and looked back down at Ginny.

"I know it's the seventh and you're both eager to go buy your wands. We're just going to make a quick little stop first, all right?" She smiled again, stroking Ginny's back, apparently decided that she'd solved what was worrying Ginny.

"Lily, do you know where I keep the floo powder?" There was a hint of distaste in her voice that Ginny picked up on instantly, and a twist of dislike turned her stomach. She swallowed hard again, her mouth sour instead of dry. Lily must have nodded, because the woman continued. "Would you -"

_Pop_.

"Merlin, Dahlia, what?" A tall man had materialized in front of the closet, Kippit clutching his wrist tightly in her little green fists. His dark red hair and brilliant, fiery green eyes left little doubt to who he was. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to have to say, 'Excuse me, my wife sent the house-elf after me. I should go before things get interesting'?"

"That wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't set up those wards," Mrs. Evans hissed through her teeth, her face still a cheerfully comforting smile that no longer reached her cold eyes. "I've been telling you sooner or later something would happen and instead of making us safer it'd be an immense trap.

"Lily, why don't you go grab it for me?" Mrs. Evans managed to make the skin around her icy eyes crinkle in a sort of happy way as she looked over. Lily started off just as Petunia returned dwarfed with a heap of crinkled dark plumb fabric. Lily paused at the door. "- and, Petunia, why don't you go with her? I might've put it up on a higher shelf. I can't quite recall now."

"Put what on a high shelf?" Mr. Evans asked, turning an arched eyebrow on his wife just as Kippit pipped,

"Mistress, Kippit would be happy to retrieve -"

"Dahlia, why don't you just summon -"

"I am _trying _to keep them _distracted!_" Mrs. Evans snapped, the continued rubbing on Ginny's back getting to be a little too much pressure for comfort. In fact, Ginny was being pressed into the side of the bed by a very firm if slim hand. "Look at Violet! Look how pale she is – she looks horrible."

Mr. Evans and Ginny exchanged regards and frowns, Ginny's now green eyes a little wide. "She's just a bit pale, Dahlia. She's fine. Well. Other than being crushed into the bed.

"Violet, how are you feeling?" He asked Ginny quickly, apparently sensing danger from the way his wife's pretty face twisted.

"Little sick," Ginny decided shortly after a glance at Mrs. Evan's furiously thinned lips. This won a smile from the pale woman and gentle hug. She smelled like mint and the air just before it snowed. Ginny expected her to begin cooing at any moment.

"Everyone gets a little sick sometimes," Mr. Evans smiled not unkindly. He took Dahlia's long robes from Petunia and shook them out a little. "You've got magic. You'll be fine."

The room stilled. Ginny noticed that everyone seemed to be trying not to look at Petunia. Even Mr. Evans seemed pained as though he was biting his own tongue. He turned to look down at his eldest daughter wearing a fixed sort of expression. "And even if you didn't, you'd be fine. Wouldn't she, Tuney?"

"Yes," Petunia replied simply, staring at the teddy bear on the floor. Watching her and the way her lips thinned Ginny felt it was the expected response instead of the one she wanted to give. There was a pause. "She didn't look a little sick when I saw her, though. She'd fallen over."

"I'm okay now," Ginny reassured her, ignoring Lily's dubious look. "I was just a little disorientated. You scared me when you opened the door, is all."

"You puked on the floor!" Lily accused, pointing a little finger at Ginny for emphasis. Mrs. Evans had her lips pursed, her arms around Ginny a little tighter as Ginny looked to Mr. Evans for help.

"I'm okay now," Ginny repeated, trying to sound a little stronger.

"Hmm." Mr. Evans glanced to Mrs. Evans, and shrugged slightly as he held out her robes. "If you get the girls ready I'll take Violet to St. Mungo's as a truce. Fair?"

"Fair enough for now," Mrs. Evans decided, hugging Ginny a little tighter before slowly relinquishing her and taking the velvet robe from her husband.

"But-"

"We'll go get your wand after that. I promise." Mr. Evans looked down at Lily and smiled cheerfully. "We'll even meet you at Ollivander's, Lily." Mr. Evans held out his hand to Ginny, but not closely enough that she'd be able to grab it without walking to him. He wanted to see if she was alright for himself, Ginny realized.

She stood, cursing Merlin silently at the little wobble to her balance and walked over to grasp his hand. Hers was so ridiculously tiny in comparison. She expected some callouses like her own father's hands, and only realized she was expecting them when there weren't any.

Mr. Evans winked at his family, and flourished his free hand to his house-elf. With a pop, they were gone.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Special thanks to my sparkly unicorn beta, Tabii. All hail the unicorn beta.

In context, deep calls to deep. I prefer hell calls to hell for this. If you have no idea what I'm saying, we're both fine. ;) Please review! Constructive criticism or even if you just like it is fine. Anon reviews are on.


	2. Between The Lines

**Disclaimer:** Still own nothing. Still not cashing in.

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><p>They didn't pop into the packed reception area of St. Mungo's. Having braced herself for a massive room with lime robed healers dashing around patients in wobbly chairs, Ginny was a little off balance. It made the sparsely furnished room they were in seem even emptier.<p>

Someone had found a nice, fancy rosewood desk with matching chair to center across from the door. Then they'd thrown a couple of leafy plants in a corner and a wide bookcase behind the desk before calling it a day. The size of the room swallowed the furniture like it was nothing. Pale light streamed across the white brocade on the walls as they loomed around the three arrivals.

Mr. Evans shook the elf's tiny green hands off his wrist and drew his wand to conjure a leather wingback in front of the desk. After a pause Ginny walked over and sat down slowly in the chair, her frilly pastel nightgown rustling against the cold seat. It dwarfed her tiny eleven-year-old frame as much as the room belittled the chair.

For his part Mr. Evans looked rather imposing flanked by the rows of books now behind him. Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that the legs of his chair might be taller than she'd thought. He ruined the effect when he smiled warmly down at her and bent out of sight behind the barren surface of his desk. She heard the rattle of a drawer opening.

A pile of paperwork landed neatly in front of Ginny with a thump. "I know it's in here... somewhere." Mr. Evans muttered before glancing back over to Kippit. The elf was standing dutifully off to the side of the desk, hands folded neatly beside the ribbon belt of her pillowcase dress. "Kippit, would you fetch for Violet one of her robes and bring it to her?"

"Kippit would be happy to, Master," the house-elf chirruped with a bow and vanished. Mr. Evans resumed shuffling through the bottom drawer while Ginny stared.

"Um," she began, reluctant to call Mr. Evans Dad, "wouldn't that free her?"

"Of course not," Mr. Evans scoffed. His almond-shaped green eyes peered over the edge of the glossy rosewood surface. "Did Petunia tell you that? It's only when you give them clothes, Violet. You might have noticed I chose my words accordingly."

Ginny looked out the windows to break his gaze, watching the misty drizzle come down. If this Petunia was anything like Muggle Petunia it didn't matter if she got blamed for something she didn't do. Besides, Ginny was a little reluctant to explain why she had no idea how house-elves worked.

A moment later she heard papers crackling together. Then another thump on the desk as a stack landed on the opposite side. Ginny heard him say a few more words under his breath, but they were difficult to make out with his head stuck in an expandable drawer.

"Why don't you just summon it?" Ginny asked finally, straining to look over the towers of paper strewn across the desk.

"I've got my desk warded," Mr. Evans responded curtly. His tone reminded her of Percy – it had the sharp little bite to it that her brother's had when someone asked him a question he thought insulted his intelligence. She couldn't help the tired smile that tugged up the corners of her mouth.

"Aha," a pale hand brought up a fiery, opalescent potion a few minutes and paper stacks later. Ginny had none too fond memories of that particular potion. Her smile twisted.

"Do you just keep Pepperup Potion in your desk, then?" Ginny asked, leaning forward and glaring at the red head of hair that appeared just past the voluminous black sleeve. Mr. Evans grinned.

"I tend to, what with working in transportation and all." He settled back against his chair, wand-waving the paperwork into eight neat piles and leaving the middle of the desk open so they could see each other easily. Glass scraped across the wood as he pushed the sloshing potion bottle toward her. "If you don't come back at least smoking from the ears your mother will probably kill me."

Ginny glared at the bottle, remembering her real first year and Percy's pigheaded determination. It'd be the second time she drank the potion without needing it. She could see Mr. Evans watching her from his reflection in the glass and the blurred shadow forms on the wood. Ginny took the bottle reluctantly. "If we weren't going to St. Mungo's, why couldn't I have grabbed some clothes first?"

"Why wouldn't you be able to dress before going to St. Mungo's?" Mr. Evans raised a hand and shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know. We left without gathering clothes because I wanted your mother to think I was in a hurry to fulfill our little deal."

Ginny stared.

"Don't worry, Violet. We play this game all the time." Mr. Evans flipped through the closest stack of paper idly. "It usually ends in me sleeping in one of the guest rooms for a few nights. Did you want to go to St. Mungo's?"

"No," Ginny replied simply. Mr. Evans nodded to the bottle in her hands, and Ginny unstoppered the odd glass top and downed the liquid. It was just as spicy as last time. She made a face and passed the empty bottle back across the desk, feeling the smoke tickle up her throat as it started to billow out of her ears.

"I'll leave you alone for about fifteen minutes," Mr. Evans said, checking his pocket watch. "I need to have a little chat with Williams anyway. Call for Kippit if you need anything."

It was only when Mr. Evans rose to leave that Ginny noticed the stack of clothes neatly folded on the floor beside her chair. _A good house-elf is never seen,_ some voice from her memory remarked.

Once the heavy door was shut once more Ginny rifled through Violet's clothes. The lavender robe was a light, breathable fabric with tiny violets embroidered into the hems. Ginny stared at them for a moment before shaking her head and tossing it over the arm of the leather chair. Fred and George got along well enough with letters.

Kippit had brought a pale green, almost silvery gown to go under it. It flowed like water in her hands and she quickly dropped it beside the robe. Laid at the bottom of the pile were silver garter stockings, a silver slip, black dress boots, and a sort of bizarre mock corset. Ginny couldn't believe anyone would try to make an eleven-year-old wear a corset.

Tossing aside everything but the robe, gown, and shoes Ginny turned back to the chair and threw off the nightgown. Simple enough to tug the dress over her smoking ears and smooth out the wrinkles. Easy to slip her arms into the robe.

Wriggling her bare feet into the dress boots proved a little harder. The leather wanted to stick to her skin instead of letting her slide her foot in. When she finally got them laced up and stood, the pile of discarded clothes were gone.

"Would Little Mistress like Kippit to fix her hair?" A voice lilted from the other side of the chair, causing Ginny to whirl around with her right hand aloft as though armed. Taking a breath she dropped it back to her side as warmth spread across her face. Simple mistake. She bet people made it all the time.

"It's fine, Kippit, thank you," Ginny decided. Violet was eleven. A frazzled braid was fine. Besides, that Merlin hexed mirror pretty much asked for it. But Kippit didn't disappear.

"Mistress says Violet has very pretty hair," the elf chirped as she edged around the back of the chair. Ginny eyed the brush-wielding green hand warily.

"I'm sure Lily has very pretty hair, too."

"Little Mistress Lily picked this out," Kippit raised a large silver barrette in her other hand as the elf looked forlornly at her bare feet. It was shaped into the form of a leaping hare and was pretty if plain. Ginny had a fondness for plain. "Kippit doesn't want to make Little Mistress sad..."

Ginny paused and nipped her bottom lip. Then she slumped slightly as she gave in. It wouldn't hurt anything. "Okay. If Lily picked it out, I'll wear it." She could have sworn she saw the shadowed half of the elf's thin lips smirk.

"Hold on," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes. "Did Lily really pick that out?"

"Kippit would never lie." The elf blinked. "Never, never, never."

It took another moment before Ginny was resignedly settled back into the chair, watching out the windows at the dreary morning the maintenance workers picked. Kippit had perched behind her on the armrest, busily brushing and charming Ginny's dark red hair into place.

"Kippit," Ginny began slowly as she mulled over the question, "what can you tell me about my family?" The brushing slowed before the bristles stopped altogether on her scalp.

"What does Little Mistress mean?"

_Everything._ Ginny should have kept her mouth shut and rummaged through the Evans' home the first chance she got. Instead she was sitting in a conjured chair in the Ministry trying to think her way out of asking a house-elf anything at all. "Why are they fighting so much over the wards?"

"Master has seen many things working in the Department of Magical Transportation. Mistress says it's made Master a bit paranoid, but not paranoid enough."

"What do you think?"

"Kippit doesn't think, Little Mistress." The bristles resumed working over Ginny's scalp at a leisurely pace. "Kippit serves."

"You thought enough to manipulate me into letting you do my hair," Ginny pointed out. The brush flinched away before Ginny felt her hair gather and the barrette slide into place with a snap.

"Kippit is all done, Little Mistress!" The elf hopped up as Ginny turned around to face her. "Kippit really needs to go home, Little Mistress. Kippit has lots to do."

"I didn't mean to upset you." Ginny looked up into the small elf's wide round eyes. Kippit's green knuckles clenched tightly around the silver brush handle.

"Kippit isn't upset, Little Mistress." Kippit bowed slightly before leaving with a backwards step off the armrest. Ginny sighed to the empty air. _Wonderful._

The office really didn't have much to look at. Especially not after sitting in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Ginny picked through the paperwork piles on the desk indifferently before trying the drawers. Not one of them so much as rattled a knob in a halfhearted attempt at opening. Without a wand she didn't have any real hope of unlocking them.

That left examining the bookcase. It was full of old, worn leather books mostly on law and transportation. A few were on potions, and the bottom shelf was filled with carefully preserved transfiguration publications.

At the end of the shelf a book was laid atop the row face down. Curious about the only non-boring book she'd seen so far she slipped it out and flipped it over. _Horological Somnambulism _was embossed into the dark cover, shimmering like liquid copper. It opened with the crack of stiff leather.

_I thought you might enjoy this seeing as you're spending most of your days half asleep._

The handwriting was a quick, light scrawl across the opening page. It looked familiar – especially the y's. There was something about them she couldn't quite place. Ginny frowned at the note and was turning the page when the door opened.

"Turns out that took a bit longer than fifteen minutes." Mr. Evans commented brightly, closing the door behind himself and shutting out a conversation about pastries in the hall. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that Ginny had been going through his things. Or been trying to, at least. "It's probably reasonably safe to go find your mother now."

"Do you think she'd be at Ollivander's already?" Ginny asked, shutting the book with a soft snap and settling it back where it'd been.

"Probably. Or loitering around Diagon Alley, looking at florid hats." Mr. Evans shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's a Wednesday, Violet. I'm going to be working late tonight as it is."

"I wouldn't mind beating them to Ollivander's," she assured with a grin. "Sorry I got sick."

"Oh, so you were sick now?" Mr. Evans chuckled, a crooked grin crossing his face in answer to her own. "You look better now. A peppermint wouldn't go amiss, but other than that you seem fine.

"Let's head over to the Apparition area." Mr. Evans pulled the door back open and looked over his shoulder at her. "Can't get too reliant on elves, can we now?"

"Why do you use Kippit?" As Ginny rounded the desk Mr. Evans tilted his head slightly. Considering, for a second.

"The families have always used house-elves," he answered as he shut the door and turned to face her. The he waved his wand behind himself at the door. "Because it's convenient. All the wards I set up to keep everyone out won't stop a house-elf. I don't need to reset the wards."

"What stops other house-elves?" Ginny folded her arms as she considered him. He actually laughed. It was a deep, rich tone that filled the room. Ginny scowled.

"House-elves," he said. "Sometimes wards against house-elves. Those are pretty rare, though... We don't tend to take servants into account when we're going about our business. Any other questions?"

"Not really." _Not for you_, Ginny didn't say.

"That's good." He swiped his wand with a flick of the wrist before dropping it back into a pocket of his black robes. "You can't be too inquisitive," Mr. Evans added as he reopened the door. "I can't have you ending up in Ravenclaw. I bet your mother you and Lily would both be in Slytherin."

Ginny just managed to keep her mouth shut as they passed a queue outside another office. He grinned back at her over his shoulder. Somehow she didn't think he was joking. Especially when he was married to a Malfoy... Merlin. She hadn't thought about it.

"Not really much danger of you being in Ravenclaw." He was beaming, and Ginny wasn't sure if it was an insult or not. Lily'd still be in Gryffindor, wouldn't she? How much had this changed Lily?

Ginny stomped down the sudden urge to go screaming for Hermione. Panic doesn't get anyone anywhere decent. Especially when it leads to Myrtle's bathroom. That had been an excellent place to throw a Horcrux.

She nearly slammed into Mr. Evan's back when he stopped. "Violet, have you been paying attention to anything I've been saying?" He didn't look angry. Just amused, with a little smile and sparkling green eyes. "Just now thinking of the Sorting? Don't fret, you've got plenty of time left to worry."

"Where did you think you'd end up?" Ginny asked, running with his excuse. Lying to parents was something she'd always been good at, thanks to her brothers. She could ride this out until she had time to think.

"Hufflepuff." One of the off-duty Apparition instructors leaning against the wall with a pastry actually turned to look at Mr. Evans in disbelief. Mr. Evans ignored him as he continued, "That's what brothers are for. They had me thinking I was too much of a bleeding heart."

"But..." Ginny really didn't have anything to add. Hufflepuff was the one House Ginny was positive Mr. Evans didn't belong to. He just didn't seem friendly or loyal enough. Of course, since there was no danger of her being in Ravenclaw she could be wrong.

"I was eleven, and easily fooled." Mr. Evans winked at her. "Now, should we get going?"

Ginny took a deep breath and slid her hand into Mr. Evan's wordlessly. She dug her fingernails into the back of his hand as he turned just before everything went black and the familiar squeezing of Apparition made itself apparent. Funny how she trusted the elf more.

"Next time I take you somewhere I'm wearing gloves," Mr. Evans muttered under the echoing voices of the crowd as he flexed his hand.

The shopfront of Ollivander's looked much the same as it had when Ginny had last seen it open. She was beginning to think the single wand on display in the window had been there since 382 B.C. In the sunlight the faded, peeling gold letters over the door looked as defiant as ever. Some things never change.

A squeal snapped her eyes back down to the store front. Lily's long red hair dangled about her shoulders as she peered around the cracked wooden door, waving them inside the tiny shop with a giggle. Mr. Evans glanced around the packed street, then met Mrs. Evan's steely gaze through the window in the door. He waved to her cheerfully.

"This would be where we part." The crack of him leaving fit right into the cacophony of the alley. Lily darted out to snatch Ginny's hand and tug her into the dusty gloom of the wand shop. Her matching silver barrette flashed in the light from the window.

"Mother wouldn't let me get mine before you got here," Lily explained in a rush, her light soprano spilling out into the hush of the narrow room. Mrs. Evans stood by the counter with her arms folded, grey eyes trailing the smoke rising out of Ginny's ears. Petunia stood near her in a flowered sundress, haughtily watching the only stranger in the room.

The small girl sat in the sole chair in the shop, each swing of her feet making the frail wooden legs creak beneath her. She couldn't have been more than nine, but her emerald robes were the perfect mirror of elegance. There wasn't a strand of black hair out of place as her ash colored eyes returned Petunia's regard. Ginny thought her a bit creepy, like a porcelain doll set atop a bureau.

"Come on!" Lily started dragging Ginny toward the empty counter, the girls' shoes scuffling across the crooked floor. "Mr. Ollivander!" Lily called into the cave-like recesses of shelves. "Violet's here now!"

"That's what bells are for, Lily." Mrs. Evans chided softly, her voice quiet in the dimly lit shop. "Behave."

"Yes, Mother," came Lily's somewhat subdued reply. Her vivid green eyes were still dancing hungrily over the thousands of boxes stacked on the shelves. Ginny heard Petunia sniff, and turned to see Mrs. Evans watching her again.

"What did the healers say?"

"Just some sort of cold," Ginny replied with a shrug. "I feel okay now."

"Considering you were telling me that this morning I'm not really convinced." Her pale fingers tapped lightly against her upper arm.

"Ah, Miss Evans." Even Mr. Ollivander's voice sounded dusty. Still, Ginny smiled up at him and his luminous eyes. "I see you have indeed arrived."

Lily hopped forward with a swish of red hair just as Ginny replied, "Lily was here first, Mr. Ollivander."

"So she was, yes." Mr. Ollivander sent the tape measure toward Lily with a flick of his wand as she dutifully held out her right arm. Ginny wondered how long they'd been waiting in the shop.

"I suspect this one might do for you, Miss Evans," Mr. Ollivander said as he redirected the tape measure to Ginny, who raised her arm. "Willow and unicorn hair. Ten and a quarter inches. Swishy, nice wand for charm work."

Lily barely had time to raise it before he pulled it from her grasp. The little girl in the chair gasped. Ginny threw her a glance as she tried to avoid the tape measure flitting about her face.

"Silver lime and unicorn hair. Ten inches, barely flexible. Go ahead, Miss Evans."

Lily reached for it only to have it taken from her before she could twist her wrist. An adorable pout crossed her lips as Lily looked to Mrs. Evans. Ginny chanced a glance back to the chair. The little girl was watching Lily with an intently thoughtful frown.

"This one, then, Miss Evans." Mr. Ollivander passed the thin box across the counter, pale eyes glittering. "Rowan and unicorn hair, ten and three-quarter inches. Springy."

Lily lifted it gingerly from the box, then a slow triumphant smile spread across her face. She twirled it between her fingers and sent spinning bright silver sparks spitting across the shop. Mrs. Evans clapped airily, her gaze warm with delight. The tape measure tried to size Ginny's grin as Lily curtsied happily to her, lily-embroidered hem tracing the floor as she turned.

"Miss Evans," Mr. Ollivander nodded to Ginny as his tape measure dropped to the ground with a thunk. "I believe this one will suit you fine. Holly and dragon heartstring, ten and three-quarter inches. Firm, but not inflexible."

It wasn't Ginny's hazel wand, but Ginny wasn't in her body either. Maybe someday she'd reclaim it. For now Ginny just took a breath and grasped the smooth handle of the holly wand. It felt like dipping her fingers into a glass of warm water.

She smiled and sent a shower of red sparks cascading down the walls of the room. Lily cheered as Mrs. Evans gave her dainty round of applause. Petunia sniffed again. It was a pretty dusty room, Ginny supposed.

Lily edged over to a mulish Petunia eying her sister aloofly as Mrs. Evans gathered Mr. Ollivander's pay. Before Ginny could follow her she caught the little girl in the chair staring at her.

"Can I help you?" Ginny asked bluntly, making her way toward the chair instead. In answer the girl produced a torn, folded scrap of paper from her pocket and held it toward Ginny. She took it, sliding her thumb along the crease as she unfolded the scrap. It was blank.

"Don't bother," Petunia said as she pushed past Lily just lightly enough that it could have been an accident. "She's been sitting there since her brother got his wand. She's probably spying."

A flash of irritation flickered across the girl's face before she turned to Petunia. "Oh yes, I'm sure who got what wand is very valuable information. Let me jot it all down so I can report back to the House of Black."

"Girls," Mrs. Evans began warningly, her back still to them. Ginny reconsidered the girl in the chair as she sat back and exchanged glares with Petunia. Sirius had never mentioned his little sister being so... Ginny glanced down at the blank paper in her hand. Odd. But he hadn't really spoken of his family much at all.

"What's this for?" Ginny asked to reclaim her attention, causing Lily to raise up on her toes and peer around Petunia at Ginny's hand.

"You should study more," the little girl answered earnestly as the twins exchanged glances.

"I'm sure there's something fascinating on tattered scraps of paper you should know, Violet." Petunia turned to Ginny with a cold smirk. "You should start looking right away."

"Petunia." Mrs. Evans loomed over the girls, her frosty gaze resting on her eldest. Ginny had seen that stern look many times before, and it always ended with a discussion in the Burrow's kitchen. The one-sided kind where she'd tell you off and you were supposed to listen silently. Ginny closed her eyes. "My disagreement with Mrs. Black should remain my disagreement."

There was silence, and Ginny opened her eyes again to find Mrs. Evans regarding them all. Then the woman turned smartly and headed for the door with the clicking of sharp heels. "Now, let's head out to the street and return home."

Ginny slipped the scrap into her pocket and was closing the shop door behind the Evans when she head it. It was a soft whisper, almost washed out against the backdrop of hawkers and the bustle of shoppers. "Ginny."

Ginny turned back to the doorway as Lily clasped her left hand, but there was only the little girl in the spindly chair and Mr. Ollivander putting away his unsold wands. The girl smiled as Mrs. Evans Apparated them to somewhere that, Ginny realized, wouldn't be their home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thank you again, Hole in the Wall. :) Annnnd more thanks to my beta who hopefully isn't too busy doing things for other people to take some time for herself.


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